Passing the Torch
by Toxic Smiling
Summary: The original cast members of Total Drama have been given a final task before an aging Chris McClean finally releases them from their respective contracts: they have to evaluate potential new competitors submitted by the audience. Submit your favorite OC for a free critique from the people who started it all. Submissions Open.
1. A Bid for Nostalgia: Prolouge

Though only a select few among the multitude had ever actually inhabited it, each and every former cast mate of the Total Drama franchise felt a sorrowful pang in their respective hearts as they surveyed what was left of Playa Des Losers. The pools had all dried up long ago, leaving behind a musty set of browning pits in the ground. The artificial waterfall near the entranceway had suffered the same fate, as had many of the outdoor fountains. The interior had fared moderately better; kept safe from the elements, but still smelt of seawater and stagnancy. The staff had long since packed up and abandoned the premise.

It seemed so empty, and yet, also so small now. The Villainous Twin, Amy, was the one who voiced what everyone else was too afraid to say.

"Okay, this place is depressing."

A few, including her sister, shot her a sour glance, but none among them disagreed. They'd been called back by Chris McClain himself for a reunion, but this was certainly not what they'd expected. It had been almost three years since the wannabe celebrities had consolidated in one place and, aside from awkward greetings and polite small-talk, none of them had much to say to each other. Truthfully, there wasn't one among them that hadn't desperately wanted to leave Total Drama in the past, where it belonged.

And yet, none of them could make themselves hate Chris McClean when he walked through the front door.

Time and obscurity hadn't done the man well, a fact made evident by the grey steak in his hair, the wrinkles creasing his forehead, and the lines around his thinning lips. No amount of Slow-Tox could disguise how he'd aged. Had it not been for the unsettling gleam of victory in his eye, none of his previous charges would've recognized him.

He took a good look around at his constituents. "I suppose you're all wondering why you're here?"

Silence held the air for a moment. Alejandro, the Arch-Villain, piped up, "Uh... I guess so?"

Chris chuckled a dark chuckle, as though seeing all of the no-longer-teenagers he once tortured on live television reminded him of what once had been. He pushed through the crowd and took a seat on the least moth-eaten armchair he could find. A few others followed his example.

"Damn it, why are we here?"

All the heads in the room snapped toward the back, where Courtney stood with her fists clenched. "We're all sick of your games, Chris. We just want to get on with our lives."

Even after all these years, The C.I.T. could still intimidate with the best of them. A swell of unrest built around her words.

Duncan and Scott, the both of them looking rougher than ever, muttered something in agreement. It seemed as though a few repressed feelings were threatening to dissolve the wary truce between the gathered fifty-two. Ezekiel had already stooped over, fighting back a feral snarl.

Chris cleared his throat. "I promise, after this, I'm letting you all go free. You'll no longer be bound to me, the franchise, or anything," said Chris. Everyone's eyes lit up. A future free from Total Drama, far away from the thing that had robbed them of their adolescence? The prospect seemed too good to be true.

"I'm one-hundred percent serious," Chris said, crossing heart with his free hand. "If you all cooperate, you can consider your respective contracts completely annulled."

Everyone had sprung to their feet. Chris couldn't be serious, could he?

" I'm not committing to anything," began Shawn from his place in the back of the huddle. "But, if I did, what would I have to do?"

Chris smirked. "Total Drama has sprung many unofficial spin-offs. Most of them require contestants from the viewing community, and every now and again, I see one who may need some help in touching up their application. Your job is help him or her, flesh them out a bit. That's all you'd have to do."

At this, the former cast mates all looked at each other with unsure eyes. Chris seemed sincere enough, but could they trust him? Would he keep his word and leave them alone if they did as he asked?

For the second time that day, no one said anything. Chris' hope began to falter.

"I'll do it!"

It was Owen, now considerably taller and somewhat slimmer, who raised his hand first. Everyone turned to look at him.

"C'mon, guys," he urged with his trademark smile of enthusiasm. "Think about it, it'll be just like old times! Just... better!"

The heavier man did have a point. Maybe it could be fun to spend one last summer together before they all got on with life.

Chris cleared his throat. "So... Do I have a crew?"

And, one by one, piece by piece, the cast fell in with agreeing murmurs. The former Host with the Most looked out on his gaggle of fifty-two constituents, looking by no means convinced, but at least somewhat less wary.

For a single and fleeting instance, Chris McClean felt young again.

"Alright. Let's get started."

**Yep, there it is. **

**Do you have an OC that you wonder may be a bit on the bland side? Or maybe you love them, but you aren't sure why the never get accepted anywhere? Are you worried you may have created a Mary-Sue/Gary-Stu? **

**Well, the Total Drama cast is here to help. Just submit your character through review or PM - you can use whatever application you want, and tell me what five characters you want to evaluate your OC. It's as simple as that.**

**Well? Get going! **


	2. A Bid for Affirmation: Nirvana Banks

Scarlett had, by no means willingly, received help after her embarrassing expungement from Pahkitew. Her mother, fearing more for her son's safety than her daughter's mental health, had collected the greatest - and, unsurprisingly, most controversial - psychologists from around the world and tasked them with fixing the girl. Three years, twelve treatment programs, and one hour-long televised special with the invasive Rev. Philemon, here she was.

Time her done her well, it seemed. Though her clothing choices were still scholarly and she stood with an air of snobbish dignity, her once unruly hair had been bound in a plaited crown and her overall vibe was - at least a bit - less threatening. She strode down the hallway, her sensible shoes making little sound against the freshly-polished Spanish tile, quickly, as though she were an esteemed professor late for a lecture.

She entered the boardroom she'd been assigned to find the lights were all off and she felt the walls for a switch. When she finally managed to locate one, the sight that the illuminated room gave her was far from pleasant.

"Of all the idiots here," she grumbled softly to herself, "they had to lump me with _him_."

Max, the self-proclaimed Super-Villain, had seated himself on one of the couches facing a plaza television, and had apparently been stewing silently in the dark. He still hadn't managed to grow much, but his body had still matured somewhat. A great deal of his baby fat had dwindled away, making him look even smaller.

He never turned to her. "Hello, _sidekick_."

Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose before offering acknowledgment. "Max."

There were only two couches in the room, and and the unoccupied one had a stain that look suspiciously like vomit on the cushion. Scarlett begrudgingly took a seat with Max, pushing her thin body against an armrest to put as much distance between them as possible. Max scoffed before turning his attention back to his phone.

"Do you know who else is joining us?" Scarlett asked, remembering her promise to remain open-minded.

Max pointed vaguely towards a paper tacked to the wall. Their names were at the top, followed by '_Owen',_ '_Noah'_, and '_Dawn'_.

"Two first-generations and that hippie-girl," said Max airily, not taking his eyes from his phone. "Should be a _real_ hum-dinger, yes?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes at the small boy's sarcasm. "Let's just get through this."

Max shrugged and allowed the tense silence to expand. Scarlett was about to retrieve a novel she'd been reading from her bag when her former cohort piped up again.

"What have you been doing with your life?"

Scarlett absently shrugged her shoulders. "I've been working with the government on a research projects. I'm not actually _on_ the projects, of course, I'm just the stenographer, but the pay is really good and-"

"Not on the projects?" Max set his phone down, his eyebrows knitted together. "That makes no sense at all."

Scarlett blinked. "I'm paid over seventeen-grand a week. At the rate I'm going, I'll be able to retire before I'm thirty."

Max waved away her logic, just as he'd always done. "I only meant that-"

"Woo! First review!"

A new voice, this one much louder than before, sliced through the air without warning and made both of them jump about a foot in the air.

Owen, without looking, bounded onto the unoccupied couch, nearly crushing it. He helped himself to some of the finger foods on the end table before acknowledging the two before him.

"Oh, hey! You two were the ones who nearly blew up that computerized island in Season 5!"

Scarlett narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Max folded his arms. "Yes, and you're that flatulent bison that won the first season. Orville, wasn't it?"

"Actually, his name is Owen," droned a new self-important voice, indicating Noah had just entered. "You were right about the flatulent part, though."

Noah was another figure who'd been relatively unaltered by time. He'd grown taller, though he hadn't yet shed his lankiness or condescending nature. The only thing that had changed was his hair, which had lengthened considerably.

"Ooh, I'm sensing quite a bit of negativity in the room-"

Noah exhaled in annoyance. "And... Dawn's here."

The Moonchild gave the Bookworm a slightly-hurt look, causing him to turn away sheepishly. Her ensemble had taken a direct turn toward the mystical, made evident by the ornate scarf worn around her head and crepe sundress that flittered behind her when she moved.

"Okay, guys," Owen said with considerable enthusiasm, unconsciously tapping into his inborn ability of mood-lightening. "Let's get this show on the road."

As soon as they were settled comfortably, Noah choosing to sit on the armrest rather than risk contact with the soiled cushion, the television screen sprang to life. A form, neatly filled out in purple ink, took up the entirety of the screen.

**Name: Nirvana Banks **

**Stereotype: The Hot Tempered Sweetheart**

Dawn, who'd already assumed the lotus position, offered a small smile. "Nirvana. What a pretty name! But, it's usually best to leave stereotypes open-ended, without adding too much detail concerning their personality."

"Yeah," Noah said, his sarcastic tone contrasting Dawn's spacey one. "Plus, 'hot-tempered' should be hyphenated."

**Gender: Female **

**Nationality: Canadian**

**Personality: Nirvana is usually really kind and sweet. Her voice is really low and hard to hear, so almost always she has to repeat what she just said. Anyway, it's not her intention... not always at least. Sometimes she curses under her breath, but instantly denies it. She can be obnoxious and over the line when provoked. Even when she doesn't like fighting or yelling, she'll do it if she loses her temper. And it doesn't take much for that to happen. She has really problematic anger management issues, and that's why she tries to be nice to everyone... anyway, she fails miserably quite often.**

"There's just... not much to work with here." Noah groused, folding his hands delicately. "When describing one's personality, one needs to go deeper than odd quirks and given reactions, you know?"

Scarlett nodded in agreement. "It's always best to be detailed as possible. You never know how long stories or seasons may stretch, and it can be very difficult for your character to thrive if they only have a few given traits. An OC should always be more than just her stereotype."

**Skills: She's athletic, and would do great in physical challenges. She's smart, but not a brainiac neither a bookworm. **

**"Athletic and smart are kinda bland for these sorts of things, man. Casting directors want specific skills that make a contestant stand out." Owen said, his mouth brimming with tiny prawns wrapped in bacon. "Like Harold and his beatboxing, for example, or that Shawn guy and his awesome armpit farts."  
**  
**Bio: Nirvana had always been quiet and sweet. People around her would totally fall for her nice manners, while others took advantage of her. At the age of thirteen, she had a violent reaction to a classmate that was making fun of her. Since then, she was diagnosed with anger management issues, and even through she really tries to stay calm all the time, it's really difficult for her. **

"Does anyone else see this?" Max groaned. "Her personality directly contrasts her bio. Are we to assume her natural disposition is 'quiet and sweet', or is she constantly fighting to stay calm?"

"Also, having an isolated outburst at thirteen doesn't warrant a diagnosis of an anger issue," added Noah. "If she had an actual disorder, signs would've been much more prevalent, and they would've caught them much earlier in childhood."

**Voice: Melodic and usually low, except when she's angry, when it becomes deeper and louder. She has a nice singing voice, but rarely sings. **

"Anger doesn't usually work that way," Scarlett quipped, tipping her chin up and pointing toward her throat. "When the voice is raised, muscles in the throat contract and strain the vocal cords, thereby making the voice higher."

**Skin tone: Pale **

**Body shape: Athletic, plenty of curves despite her short stature. **

**Hair color/hairstyle: Intense red, long and curly hair that reaches her waist. **

"_Intense_ red," Dawn dipped her head to the side. "If she wanted to clean this part up, it might've been easier to just pick a shade of red that fits this description. But that's just a thought. It might be a good idea to state whether or not her hair is natural or dyed. It may not seem like much, but small details go a long way when it comes to the selection process.

**Eye color: Blue**

**Outfits-**

**Everyday: She wears a purple hoodie, blue skinny jeans, black and pink boots. She wears pink lip gloss, and always carries her reading glasses and her two favorite books on a light pink backpack. **

**"**She's not a bookworm, but she carries books with her at all times?" Noah raised his eyebrows. "Why would she do that? Those materials would just be a hindrance in challenges."

**Pajamas: Light purple T-shirt, pink pajama shorts.**

**Swimsuit: Purple bikini. **

**Audition tape (if necessary): There's some static before the camera turns on. There's a redheaded girl in front of it, smiling shyly to the camera.**

**"Uh, hello there... I'm Nirvana Banks", she whispers, and almost instantly clears her throat. "I think I could be a good addition to your show. I was going to show you a little bit of what I can do, but... then I realized audition tapes are supposed to be short..." **

**She giggles for a moment, before looking down to sigh. She looks at the camera again, smiling faintly.**

**"So, pick me... please?"**

**The camera goes back to static at the end of the video.**

Noah quirked an eyebrow. "That's it? All she did was beg to be picked. There was no incentive. A good audition tape doesn't tell. It shows."

Owen swallowed the last mouthful of his first plate. "Look, I think you guys are being a little harsh. The concept isn't bad!"

"We aren't saying that it's bad," Noah assured him, standing up and stretching. "In fact, the building blocks are all there. She just needs to be expanded a little and smoothed out around the edges."

"If nothing else, she was well-written and pretty thought-out. That's definitely something to be proud of," said Scarlett. "I mean, have you _seen_ some of the Total Drama fandom?"

"Yes, well, I think we've done enough for today," said Max, with an air of finality. "Evil requires rest."

Noah shrugged his shoulders. "Final thoughts?"

"She's certainly not awful, but she does need more detail," mused Scarlett. "It's always a good idea to treat your character as though they were a real person. They need flaws, positives, and insecurities that go beyond their archetype."

Dawn nodded. "I think it's safe to say that we all like her personally, but that won't always be the case with all casting directors. I get a very pure aura off her, so she certainly isn't beyond saving."

Owen, who'd licked every platter clean in the time it'd taken the others to wrap up, collected the recording of their reactions. "Let's get this to Chris so he can send it out."

Noah and Dawn were the first to leave, closely followed by Owen who held the recording out with the utmost care. Max was all set to retrieve his phone and retreat back to his own room when Scarlett stopped him.

"So... You seemed a little off out when you found out I wasn't going to college."

Max rolled his eyes. "Are you still on that, sidekick? I only meant that you shouldn't be content to be a lowly note-taker."

She tried hard to not feel offended, but the fact that Max still referred to her as his minion made that difficult.

"Why?"

"Because of how intelligent you are, of course."

At this, the Brainiac blinked. Had she heard right? Did Max just... complement her?

"I honestly would've thought that was obvious. Back on that accursed island, you had to wit to take control of the main computer, fool the entire cast of Pahkitew, and team up with a criminal genius such as myself... You are smarter than any old _stenographer, _Scarlett_. _Don't get me wrong, you're not nearly in the same intellectual sphere as myself, but still."

With that, the wannabe mastermind took his leave, leaving the redhead stunned. Max had just addressed her by name and - though quite sounded somewhat unintentional - complemented her. She wasn't entirely sure how to take it.

She shook her head. Quite a bit had changed since they'd all been together, it seemed.

"It's going to be a long summer..."


End file.
